


Closet Calls

by Sparcina



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Banter, House Being House, M/M, Making Out, No Spoilers, Season/Series 01, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29640435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: House may have come out of the closet years ago, he was trapped in this one for the foreseeable future.At least, he wasn't alone.(House and Wilson's developing relationship through a series of closets.)
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: Proximity Flash





	Closet Calls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FictionPenned](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionPenned/gifts).



💊 Closet 1 💊

The closet was small, but at least it didn’t smell like Foreman's smelly shoes. There even was a pillow at the back, and House slumped against it with a satisfied grunt. For all that Wilson had poor taste in mistresses (and the occasional mister), he was very cushiony in all the right spots. The fact that he wore a very good cologne only enhanced the experience.

Wilson, of course, tried to push House away, but the size of the closet worked to House's advantage.

“House, get off me.”

“If that’s what you tell all the people in your bed who aren’t your wife, I’m not surprised none of your affairs last.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You know you’re just proving my point, right?” In the frustrated silence that followed, House smiled. It was fun to poke at Wilson. Mostly, because Wilson was not only very comfortable as a pillow, but also highly pokeable as a friend, so very responsive to all kinds of sarcasm.

“I know it’s a concept your struggle to understand, but I have patients who depend on me, House." Wilson huffed and started to squirm. "I can’t play hide and seek all day with you.”

“How about seven minutes in heaven?”

“It’s been more than seven minutes in hell already.”

House didn't budge. "Your bedside manner could use some work.”

“If you want to hide from Cameron, do it without me.”

“But how else is she supposed to learn independence?” House retorted with faux anxiety.

The next shove was stronger, and Wilson made use of his two functioning legs to rush out the closet and loom over House, arms crossed. 

“Get out of my closet or I’m siccing Cuddy on you.”

House's eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“No, you’re right, I’d much rather lock you in that closet.” Wilson rooted around in the right pocket of his lab coat and produced a silver key. He dangled it at House, smile widening as he began to count. “In three, two, one-”

Some days, Wilson was no fun at all.

🦯 Closet 2 🦯

This was hardly the first time an elite member of the elderly had a crush on him, but this particular woman was persistent. And faster than House with her cane, which was totally unfair.

"You don't have to drag me into your problems every single time, you know."

That was Wilson, pissed off in his corner of the closet. House wiggled his eyebrows at him - not that there was enough lighting in this smelly, dusty closet in the basement for Wilson to see his expression. His bad leg was getting cramped already, but at least, no passionate old hag was trying to give him a free saliva sample. And besides, Wilson was around to entertain him.

“You _love_ taking care of my problems. Makes you feel useful and everything. Besides, you’re only here because you’re avoiding that nurse from Cardiology.”

“I am _not_ -”

“You totally are practicing your bedside manner on her. Or _were_. But she wants more and you don’t, and now she wants to scoop out your eyes with a little spoon.”

“Charming.”

House rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe there is no spoon involved. But she hates your guts.”

“You’re getting your life confused with mine, House.”

“Nah, I’m not. Everyone loves me.”

“Sure.”

House shrugged. He spent at least twice the time he was supposed to be on clinic duty making sure everyone and their mother _did_ hate him, but…

“You like me well enough,” he said, and poked Wilson in the chest.

Wilson trapped the digit before House could try and pull away. As it happened, House was counting on this exact reaction, and he leaned in abruptly, whispering right against his best (and only) friend’s mouth:

“You know there’s an obvious reason why your marriages and your affairs all fail, _James_.”

He heard Wilson swallow, and waited for a rebuttal. When seven seconds passed and silence still reigned, he discarded his cane and made himself comfortable in Wilson’s lap.

💕 Closet 3 💕

House may have come out of the closet years ago, he was trapped in this one for the foreseeable future.

“Could you _not_ take all the space?”

“I’m sorry,” House said, not sorry at all. “Who’s the cripple here?”

For good measure, he stabbed Wilson’s foot with his cane. The sound that left Wilson’s mouth was interesting, but a little loud, so House crowded his friend slash lover against Cuddy's stash of back-up ~~escort~~ work outfits and shut him up in Wilson's preferred fashion. The closet was kind of small, but they made do. How else was House supposed to hide from Cuddy? He hadn’t done his clinic duty in a whole week, but he’d been busy, all right? Mostly, by getting acquainted with Watson’s most interesting body parts, and he wasn’t even thinking about the man’s nicely-shaped dick. He’d had the one case, too. A very complicated one, or else he wouldn’t have taken it (obviously). One would think that with his efficiency saving lives would cut, Cuddy would cut him some slack, but she'd obviously not become overlord (lady?) of PPH by being _nice_.

Watson was nice. Too nice, at times, but House was working on that.

“Enough,” Watson panted in his ear.

“What, one of your patients is going to die a painful death in the next five minutes and you _can’t wait_ to bear witness to the inevitability of death?”

“You're such an asshole.”

“So you keep telling me,” House replied cheerfully, reaching for the bottle of Vicodin in his pocket.

Watson was faster, and knocked the bottle out of his hand. House saw red for a minute, or rather the three seconds it took Watson to give him something else to think about than the pain in his leg. Watson was very good with his hands.

"Wilson..." House screwed his eyes shut, hands fisting into Wilson's previously wrinkle-free shirt as a warm hand tightened at the base of his cock. "Do- Do that again."

And Wilson, who had yet to become half as mean as House, did exactly that. House was seriously considering patenting those oncologist hands as a legit alternative to drugs (in between longer periods of not thinking at all), when the door to Cuddy’s office flew open and the dragon entered its den.

“… see him, send him straight to my office!”

“Will do,” a man’s voice said.

Chase. Who had no idea where House was right now, even though he might suspect what he was up to. House was starting to gety fond of that closet. It was less comfortable than the one in Wilson’s office, and less isolated than the one in the third basement, but he didn’t care.

Mainly, because Wilson was there with him.


End file.
